Left Behind
by paperphoenix337
Summary: Sort of, but not necessarily a sequel to "I Was Meant For the Stage". Can be read alone. These are Todds's thoughts on Neil's suicide and what he plans to do about it. Inspired by the song "Left Behind" from Spring Awakening


**A.N: I was inspired by a video I watched on YouTube set to the song "Left Behind" from the musical Spring Awakening and featuring the good boys of DPS. I thought the lyrics were pretty appropriate, but I didn't want to incorporate them into the story. Do check out the song, though, it's really beautiful.**

**And also, I don't endorse the idea of committing suicide under situations like this, or any situations really. Speaking from personal experience, I know that when someone you love does this it's hard as hell to not give in and do the same. However, it seemed to fit better that this be what Todd did as he is a fictional character and no real Todds were harmed in the making of this story. **

**As always, I don't own Dead Poets Society, nor do I own Spring Awakening or any of the music from it, but I do own the right to write for entertainment, so uh…enjoy. (Can't really enjoy a piece like this, though).**

"Let Behind":

_You fold his hands and smooth his tie, you gently lift his chin.  
Were you really so blind, and unkind to him?  
Can't help the itch to touch, to kiss, to hold him once again.  
Now to close his eyes--never open them...._

A shadow passed, a shadow passed, yearning, yearning  
For the fool it called a home.

All things he never did are left behind.  
All the things his mama wished he'd bear in mind,  
And all his dad had hoped he'd know.

The talks you never had, the Saturdays you never spent.  
All the 'grown-up' places you never went.  
And all of the crying you wouldn't understand.  
You just let him cry, 'make a man out of him.'

A shadow passed, a shadow passed, yearning, yearning  
For the fool it called a home.

All things he ever wished are left behind.  
All the things his mama did to make him mind,  
And how his dad had hoped he'd grow.

All things he ever lived are left behind.  
All the fears that ever flickered through his mind.  
All the sadness that he'd come to own.

A shadow passed, a shadow passed, yearning, yearning  
For the fool it called a home.

And it whistles through the ghosts still left behind.  
It whistles through the ghosts still left behind.  
Whistles through the ghosts still left behind.

Three weeks after Neil's suicide Todd was still replaying every moment from watching Neil's father drive him away right up to when he himself passed out onto his bed and was left undisturbed for several hours.

Neil's lack of presence seemed to hang in everything the remaining Dead Poets did together.

No one sat in Neil's desk; No one sat on his rock in the Indian Cave. They had even begun to skip the introduction as it was Neil's job to start the meetings.

Charlie's lack of presence since his expulsion was treated much differently. The boys would often observe situations, such as last week when Cameron tripped going down the stairs and spilled his books all over the floor, by turning to one another and exclaiming that they wished Charlie could have seen that!

Or, when Knox "pulled a Nuwanda" and secretly painted a lightning bolt on his chest for his first date with Chris.

However, when they began to read Macbeth in class no one said what they had all been thinking. _Neil would have loved this. Even though we weren't acting, just reading, he still would be pacing around his room and forcing Todd to read counterparts with him._

Whenever someone showed an excessive amount of enthusiasm for an idea no one accused the other of "pulling a Neil".

By the end of the third week, the silence was beginning to suffocate Todd.

It wasn't just not talking about Neil or the service they had for him, it was all the small things that Neil had left behind that made Todd realize how much he missed him.

It was the clothes left on his side of the wardrobe. It was the books on his desk that he would never read again; His notebook and pencils that he used to do his schoolwork with. It was his shoes sitting beside his bed, never to be worn again as he flew down a hill to whatever destination he was headed.

Mostly is was the damn comb on the sink that no one used and the toothbrush that sat in the cup by itself while all the other boys brushed their teeth.

Todd couldn't help but take inventory of all these things. Each item felt like an accusation.

_Why didn't you try harder?_

_Why weren't you a better friend?_

_How could you not notice how upset he was?_

_How could you just let him go like that?_

It seemed like everyone else was slowly putting their lives back together.

Not to say they were unfeeling for there were still occasional tears and every now and then a teacher would have to scold a Dead Poet or two for staring out the window, lost in thought during a lesson.

Maybe it was because each night the other Poets got to go to bed knowing that there was someone on the other side of the room.

Todd's bed hadn't been slept in since he found out about Neil.

In a way it made him feel guilty. There he had been, enjoying a peaceful sleep and then he had been pushing Charlie off of him. He hadn't even sensed that something was wrong until he saw his face and all the others.

However, the bigger reason was that Todd found sleeping in Neil's bed the closest thing to actually getting to be close to him.

Every night he would curl himself into a ball and pull Neil's pillow to his face while he began to cry harder than he ever thought possible. The tears came with such a force that it rocked his body and made him feel as though he was going to suffocate from not being able to catch his breath between gasps. Sometimes he would cry so hard and for so long that his heart would actually begin to hurt. All until he finally feel asleep with troubled thoughts about what Neil's last thoughts had been and whether or not he had been in them at all.

And yet, somehow, the Earth kept turning. Morning came as scheduled and gave way to night when the time was right.

Boys shuffled into their first classes with sleep-tousled hair and glassy eyes and then spent the rest of the day pushing each other down the staircase or calling to one another from across the courtyard.

Charlie was off somewhere else doing his mischievous deeds and wrecking silent havoc. Cameron was no longer in the group. Meeks and Pitts went back to working on their radio and thinking up what they should work on next. Knox went about his infatuation with Chris, only now he was allowed since they were dating.

And Todd…Todd was writing poetry, alone, in his room. He was eating his meals and attending meetings with the others, but he wasn't really…there.

Part of him knew that Neil would be mad at him for acting this way. He could already hear the old argument of how nothing Keating had to say meant shit to him.

However, when Todd would start to feel guilty for letting Neil down he would become angry.

"_I'm _letting _him _down?!" Todd said aloud one night he was feeling particularly guilty for having bought a bit of rope from a small shop just outside the school premises.

"_He_ left _me_ here! He said he'd always be there! He promised we'd be together until we couldn't remember who the other one was, let alone who we ourselves were! How dare _he _get pissed off at _me!_"

Then he had then broken down. He had jumped up from Neil's bed in his rage, but now he was faintly feeling the sting in his knees as a result of hitting them on the hardwood floor so fast.

"I'm so sorry, Neil. I'm not mad at you. It's not about me. I'm so sorry. I love you. Come back. Let me know you're alright. Give me sign. I want to feel you here and I'll be okay, I promise! I won't even tell anyone. Please, oh, just please, Neil. Come back. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Todd waited, sobbing, on the floor for at least twenty minutes. Maybe more, maybe less; it was hard for him to judge.

He just had to accept that he wasn't going to get a message from Neil.

Gasping with the effort, Todd pulled himself back up to sit on the edge of the bed, the rope by his side.

He glanced at it and then looked down quickly, almost as though he was afraid it would catch him staring. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees and bent his head to look at the floor. He began to rub his hands together between his knees.

_What would his parents think? _They would be sad, but nowhere near as distraught as they would if it were Jeffery instead. In some twisted way, this would just be another accomplishment for him.

"Yes, poor Todd just wasn't strong enough to continue facing life, but Jeffery managed to pull through, didn't you son" to which Jeffery would reply with that slight smile of his, "You betcha, Pop".

_What about the other Poets? What about when word reaches Mr. Keating? And the school board? _

If the Poets could handle their leader being gone, they could handle losing Todd. After all, they hadn't been that close to him. Neil had been the closest; The only one really willing to pull a big bad wolf to break down Todd's barriers.

Mr. Keating would probably understand best of all, in a morose sort way. He would probably pity Todd above all things.

And the school board? Todd could really care less. They could get mad and look to blame someone, but it wouldn't matter one bit. Everyone would know why and this time there wouldn't be any teacher to fire or any student willing to sacrifice their spot at Welton to defend Todd's reasoning if such a thing were to happen.

Having finally decided, Todd sprang into action.

He jolted from the bed and went to his desk. He decided not to leave an official note. No, he would just leave out his "dreaming of a tomorrow" poem and dash "Neil" at the bottom somewhere. Tiny.

With shaking hands he tied the noose and wrapped the remainder of the rope around the light fixture. He slowly turned around on the chair he was standing on to do the job.

The noose lay gently on his shoulder in almost a comforting way as though to say, "Soon, Todd, soon it will all be over".

He drew a shaky breath and took one last look around. Slowly, with his hands still shaking, the reached behind him and pulled the noose forward.

He gently lowered it over his head and let it hang around his neck like a piece of jewelry for a moment. His eyes slipped shut as the tightened it around his neck and carefully stepped to the edge of the chair.

With only one thought on his mind, he stepped off the edge with one foot first and then kicked the chair with the other.

It was Meeks who found him an hour later.

He had gone to invite Todd to the study group. If he declined Meeks would give him the "Look, I get that you miss Neil, we all do, but you can't stay shut up in here by yourself all the time" speech, but he had been too late.

He ran back to the study hall with tears streaming down his face to confirm what the Poets had feared would happen.

**A.N: So, good? Okay? Horrible, please don't write anything else, kthanxbai? Let me know! I'm always looking to improve. This was a bit harder to write as it was more personal and I find Todd's mind harder to get into than Neil's. Not really sure why, but there you have it. **

**Anyway, please review and let me know what you think! And thanks for reading, of course! **


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